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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750355">The Master and the Artist</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShippingMaster/pseuds/TheShippingMaster'>TheShippingMaster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Divergence, aha i thought about this and now im writing it, and whos past life she is, art therapy, gee i wonder who my oc is, takes place after s12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:15:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShippingMaster/pseuds/TheShippingMaster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master narrowly escapes Gallifrey's second destruction, once again cheated from death. He somehow ends up crash landing on Earth, in the backyard of a young woman, a la Eleventh Doctor. Hurt in more ways than one, he reluctantly lets this young woman help him heal, and discovers who she really is in the process.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Master (Dhawan) &amp; Original Character(s), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Master and the Artist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air was pleasantly cool for a summer’s night, with no cloud in sight in the vast darkness. The twinkling town lights a ways down from the lone house that stood on the cliff side  invited laughter and cheers. A football match had played and the town’s favourite team had won; celebrations were held in the Sneaky Gull pub. Few road lights were lit way up here. If no one was going to travel the long distance, they might as well save on electricity.</p><p>The house was dark and quiet. It was a simple two storey house, the white paint chipping and picket fences needing repairs. A bush of roses creeped up the side of the front wall, and off to the side was a vegetable patch, pruned and clean. Usually, during this time, Madeleine would be up late, the steady whirring of her banding wheel accompanying her singing. But after one too many nights staying up late, she’d taken the discipline to sleep early.</p><p>Snug deep under her covers, she was beginning to drift off to sleep when a loud crash and subsequent tumbling awoke her. Flying out of the covers, grabbing her phone as a torch and quickly running to her crafting table for a pair of scissors, she peered out the glass sliding doors that led to her garden.</p><p>Crushing her tomato and courgette stems, toppling over her sunflowers, and having snapped her rickety fence, was a man. He’d landed on his back, his face hidden behind his crumpled body. She flipped a switch and the porch lights flickered on. The man didn’t stir. Gently sliding the door open and tiptoeing across the smooth stones laid across the earth, meant to be used to not disturb her seedlings but <em>whatever</em>, she wrapped her blanket tighter around her frame, gripping her scissors.</p><p>Madeleine had the number for the police ready on call, just in case he turned out to be a murderous serial killer.</p><p>“No funny business,” she talked mostly to herself, still groggy.</p><p>A beat past. Then another. The man was still unconscious. With her big toe, she poked the man’s thigh, quickly retracting to hold out her scissors. When he still didn’t move, she took tentative steps closer. She tried not to feel to upset about her hard work going to waste</p><p>His purple coat was tattered, and his matching checker waistcoat and pants were torn up. She really didn’t want to look too hard at his arm, which was bent at a very disconcerting angle. What really surprised her was the lack of blood on his face and body. There were no large wounds or scratches, and he didn’t seem to be some junkie who decided to sleep in her garden. Glancing back at her fence, it actually seemed like he smashed through the old thing and continued to bounce into her vegetables.</p><p>How did he come here? Did he fall from the sky? She glanced up and only saw the moon smiling down at her, with the stars winking as they kept this weird man’s secrets. People didn’t just fall from the sky, that was ridiculous. At least, people didn’t fall from the sky and lived. A shiver went down her spine, and it wasn’t from the cold.</p><p>“Hey, mister,” she whispered, continuing to prod him with her toe. “Mister?” He better not be dead.</p><p>She was about check for his pulse when his dark eyes opened and he shot up. He was like a firecracker; once he’d moved he didn’t stop, shooting all the up onto his feet like a plank of wood being up righted. Madeleine shrieked and fell backward, watching as he stomped around, pointing the scissors at him in warning. His head was shaking as he grunted and coughed.</p><p>“Where-“ his voice croaked, his feet walking criss-cross. “Theta-“</p><p>Madeleine watched as the man twirled, his purple coat revealing what seemed to be claw marks dragging the cloth down. He seemed in danger of tripping over his own feet before harming her.</p><p>“Mister, please calm down,” Madeleine said, finding her voice. Her heart beat drummed so loudly in her ears that she was afraid that maybe he didn’t hear her.</p><p>The man stopped his blind tripping and zeroed his gaze on her, blinking as he realised that she was there. He stood directly in front of a light, almost like a halo glowed around his head. But his eyes. His eyes were terrifyingly wide and filled with manic energy. How he stood tall and hunched over, he seemed to resemble a wild cat stalking its prey. Oh, where did her phone go? He was most <em>definitely</em> a serial killer. Why didn’t she call the police when she did?</p><p>“Stay back!” she cried. Brandishing her weapon didn’t seem to faze him.</p><p>It was hard to tell, but he seemed to chuckle at her efforts.</p><p>“Where is she?” he barked.</p><p>Madeleine glanced around her property. As far as she was aware of, they were the only two people on her property.</p><p>“Where is who?”</p><p>“<em>Her</em>!” he said aggressively. His whole body shook. The halo behind his head flickered.</p><p>Madeleine couldn’t say anything. This guy definitely was unhinged. He must’ve come from some sort of hospital. She watched as he paced around, barely wincing at how unnaturally his arm hung limply by his side. She wanted to reach out and pop it back in place.</p><p>“Don’t make me say her name, <em>human</em>.” His eyes burned and brimmed with a mix of anger and tears. “She must be nearby, she has to be. This is her <em>favourite</em> planet.”</p><p>“Listen, why don’t you just come inside and sit down.” <em>Oh yeah, because inviting a crazy stranger into your house is a totally safe thing to do, </em>Madeleine.</p><p>He started laughing, a deep chuckle that quickly turned unnerving. His hands raked his hair, which was caked in dust and dirt, much like the rest of his outfit. He was looking more and more like a mad man by the second.</p><p>But she had to try. Madeleine slowly got on to her feet, maintaining her distance as his back was turned. If she ran, she could be at the nearest town building in an hour. But if she left then this guy might run off, and then who knows what kind of danger their little sea town would face. What she needed right now was to get this guy to calm down so she could deal with him. The scissors didn’t work, her words don’t seem to work. Going near him was not a course of action she was willing to take. While not so much taller, this guy looked a lot stronger than her. The deranged glint in his eyes paralyzed her.</p><p>“Maybe a cup of tea to sooth the nerves? I mostly have chamomile but I know there’s an unopened box of rooibos somewhere!” she suggested, feeling for the gate behind her.</p><p>“This is perfect. Just <em>perfect!</em>” he yelled, almost jumping as he enunciated. It was like he wasn’t listening to her at all. “The TARDIS is gone and now I’m stuck on this fucking awful planet!” The halo porch light flickered its last and went out.</p><p>As quickly as he was awake, the man passed out. Madeleine watched as his eyes rolled behind his head, and any tenseness he had slipped away as he began to fall. She scurried to catch him, just barely grabbing his non-hurt shoulder. She let out an oof as his weight brought her down too.</p><p>Turning him over and smacking his cheek several times, Madeleine sighed. The weird man was out cold, completely asleep. Crawling out and laying his head down, she finally found her phone half buried in the soil and retrieved it. The torch light function was still on and had drained her battery to an embarrassingly low percentage. She let out another deep sigh, rubbing her forehead and weighing her options.</p><p>Call the police? Bring him inside to sleep, and maybe lock her bedroom door?</p><p>The police seemed like a much safer choice, but her phone would need recharging and she didn’t own a landline. Turning her gaze upward, Madeleine looked to the stars for guidance, disappointed but not surprised when she was met with perpetual silence.</p><p>She picked the man’s good arm, hoped she wouldn’t dislocate it, and heaved him up her stairs. She swore at how heavy he was, struggling to drag him and nearly slipping her bare feet on the wood of her house. A quick sneak at her phone told her that it was nearly 2 A.M, way past her planned bedtime. This last half an hour was way too much stimulation that she knew it would take another hour to really fall asleep.</p><p>After a few minutes of struggling and pulling, Madeleine dropped the probably serial killer on her living room floor. He could eat her dust bunnies for all she cared- okay that wasn’t true but as her vision began to blur, this was the most she would do for him.</p><p>She staggered up and sank down into her plush bed as everything went black.</p><hr/><p>Orange. Black. Orange. Black. Orange.</p><p>The sun filtered through the thin curtains, flashing light intermittently on the Master’s face as her lay there. As he became more conscious, his eyes blinked and winced at the hard gunk that’d formed, rubbing his face with two soiled fingers.</p><p>Moving felt like fire spreading to every muscle, a feeling he didn’t necessarily dislike but one unappreciated in the wee hours. The ringing in his ears to such a degree that no amount of plugging them shut got rid of them. He tried to sit up, but after his joints professed their desire to lay still, the Master, never one to listen, on full throttle, heaved himself up. The plush armrest was what he felt after reaching blindly, his head spinning with pain.</p><p>The events of the last twenty-four hours replayed in his mind on loop. He’d had her, the Doctor, in his grasp. They were going to finally end everything, <em>together</em>. No more Gallifrey, no more sidekick humans, no more anything. The sweet release of death was <em>so close</em>. He scoffed at the man who’d taken her place; how she’d run off to try and get away from him.</p><p>Of course he wouldn’t let that happen- there was also no way the Cyberium would let its host die. Not on a planet that was just about to be hostless. They’d ran past the CyberMasters, to a place the Master knew TARDISes were being kept. It had all happened so fast.</p><p>The old man definitely pushed the trigger before he’d fully stepped into the TARDIS. The burns of the death particle lingered on his back, lashed out on his coat and thighs. The Master would cheat death as many times as he’d have to if it meant destroying his best enemy. He clenched his fist as the promise solidified into a goal.</p><p>The Doctor would die.</p><p>Back in his mind he heard a child’s laughter. The images of the Doctor newly discovered and playing with a child on top of that hill, on that faithful day, came to the front of his memory. He remembered the first time he saw the Matrix’s vision, slowly coming to the realisation that the Doctor was never who he thought they were, how it lit a flame deep inside him. The betrayal against all Gallifreyans, who were never told the truth. The hurt he was too afraid to admit when he realised that Theta was not the same as him. The raw anger at Tecteun for-</p><p>The Master caught himself before he could think it. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his finger wagging at the nonsense of his brain. He hated the Doctor, plain and simple. He hated the Doctor.</p><p>He hated the Doctor.</p><p>Finally looking up, the Master carefully surveyed his surroundings. A seaside cottage, if the screech of seagulls and salty breeze were to be believed, belonging to a- loser? Canvas upon canvas filled the already too-small living room, all of them of the same horizon and cliffside view, one that the Master could observe just by looking over his shoulder. A small wooden circular board stood atop contraptions the Master never bothered learning the names of, flaked with dry clay.</p><p>The walls around him remained the same type of discoloured white, to the point that he realised in disgust that it was due to the layers of dust. Wiping a smudge away revealed the true colour. Somewhere he heard the wind pass through and lazily push hollow metal rods together, clinking to make “music”. In the corner was an untouched guitar, covered under the same layers of dust as the walls.</p><p>Oddly enough, there weren’t any photographs. Back when the Master pretended to be the dainty humans the Doctor loved to coddle, he’d kept photographs. Sure, they were of faux relationships and people who he would shrink in a heartbeat- wait. The Master patted himself down. No. Oh nononononono. Not in his shirt pocket, coat pocket, or trousers. In rage, he kicked the small coffee table. His Compressor was gone. Okay, no need to get upset. He combed his hair down, resisting the urge to tick his fingers against something. His memory was too warped in his escape that he couldn’t recall where he’d dropped it. If it was still in the TARDIS, then fuck, that piece of junk probably crashed landed and blended in by now.</p><p>He would burn this whole place to the ground if he could.</p><p>“Ah! You’re awake; lovely.” A voice called out.</p><p>The Master twisted to see a girl pointing a pair of scissors at him while holding a mobile telephone in her other hand. Something about this image brought about more low chuckling. Was this supposed to be intimidating?</p><p>“I will call the police if you don’t tell me who you are and how you crashed into my garden,” she announced firmly.</p><p>She wasn’t too tall and had her hair dyed in a very unnatural colour. It clicked in the Master’s mind with an agonizing thought. This house didn’t just belong to a loser.</p><p>It belonged to an Artist.</p>
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